


Mother, Mother

by ItsJaya



Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU (Comics), Robin: Son of Batman (Comics)
Genre: Angst and Feels, Future Fic, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Mother-Son Relationship, Two emotionally damaged individuals attempt to converse, Unreliable narrator?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-02
Updated: 2019-11-02
Packaged: 2021-01-20 18:43:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,319
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21286388
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ItsJaya/pseuds/ItsJaya
Summary: Sometimes, Talia wants to see her son. Thread her finger through his hair and whisper apologies into his ears.
Relationships: Bruce Wayne/Selina Kyle (mentioned), Talia al Ghul & Damian Wayne
Comments: 13
Kudos: 62





	Mother, Mother

“Mother,” Damian greets, and quite frankly, Talia is startled. It had been a while since she’d last spoken with him and that was quite a voice. He hasn’t grown much taller, to her disappointment. Contrary to her firm belief that he’d grow to be quite tall, her son showed little to no sign of being taller than even Richard Grayson. His hair is trimmed from the side but long from the top. It seems wavier- he must’ve had it styled, she thinks. There’s a prominent scar running down his cheek that she’s sure wasn’t there last week when she had her spy report about his conditions and those are quite dark circles under his eyes- overall, he looks fine. Her boy is handsome, she glows, feeling a burst of pride. “You called for me,” he comments, sliding into the seat across her.

“I did,” she gestures for a waitress to bring her another menu.The woman scurries away, and she catches her son shifting in his seat slightly. He’s uncomfortable. Oh well. “You’ve been doing well, I hope,” she sips her tea. 

“I have,” he flips through the menu, “You seem to be fine as well.” She nods. He orders a tea and biscuits, even saying ‘thank you’ to the waitress as she takes their menus. “Why’d you call me?” he asks, and ouch, maybe she was expecting him to be less straightforward- maybe a bit happier to see her after so many years. Time has softened her, she had hoped it would heal his wounds. 

“I haven’t seen you in quite a while,” she doesn’t want to sound like she’s explaining herself, but he raises an eyebrow and she continues, “I wondered what you had been investing your time in.” He narrows his eyes now, dozens of questions and theories probably running through his mind. She almost wishes she had a grand plan behind this meeting. 

In reality, she had found a sudden urge swallowing her up one morning to see him. Her dreams became infected with images of her son, at ten, extending slick, red hands towards her till his finger tips would touch her cheeks and his eyes would bore into her soul, pleading for help. Talia was not one to cave into her emotions quickly. She had completely lost the ability to allow love to control her decisions when she had let her son die. However, she was not emotionless. Having the same dream a few times too many made her restless and uneasy.

“Well, Mother,” he begins, “I decided to pursue a major in art. Judging from your expression, you’re not impressed, but no worries, Father wasn’t exactly pleased either. Something about how I love animals so I should be a vet.”

“Art is a fine subject,” she says, but he can read her so well after all these years. In all honesty, she would prefer he pursue political fields. “Why don’t you minor in art history, and choose a different major?”

“So much like him, aren’t you?” he smiles bitterly, and before she has a chance to respond, he continues, “You most definitely know that my team a few years ago got disbanded. It just didn’t work out, and I was-” he chuckles to her surprise, “I mean, still am quite problematic. I still chat with them from time to time.” He pauses, and she catches a short huff of breath before he continues, “Before you ask, I am still Robin. Richard has suggested a few new names for me, but I barely patrol. Gotham has quite the team now with Cassandra and Timothy back. I haven’t stopped training though. I should be buffer than Jason in no time.” She highly doubts this. “Father married Selina Kyle, although you must know that already. I doubt they’ll bear any offspring, so no worries, as of now, you’re the only woman to successfully have a child with him. Congratulations.” 

“Quite the report you’ve put together,” Talia is curt. For some reason, she doesn’t feel anything. There’s a hollowness settling low in her abdomen and the tea tastes bitter, her throat tight and that can’t be her eyes burning. 

“A report is what you wanted,” he responds, his voice dropping low. He turns, gesturing for the waitress. “More butter biscuits, please.” The woman nods before shuffling away and he returns his attention to her. “What is wrong, Mother?” And she wishes she could give a snarky response, one filled with the confidence she prided herself of having not so long ago. “I heard you took in an orphan child not too long ago. Raising her to take your place?”

“No, I am not your Father. I took care of her and let her free.” His lips pull together tightly. “She was quite the feisty one. You would’ve enjoyed her company.”

“Why then?” he asks, but she’s not sure how to answer him. “Why didn’t you keep her?”

“I don’t have enough time to raise a child,” she answers. The girl had been a refugee who had stumbled too far from home, still unfamiliar with her new surroundings. With her ambitious eyes and ragged expressions, she’d asked for a home where she could be herself and a home she was granted. A year and a half in, the girl had proven that she was clearly not destined to be an assassin. She had sent her off with enough money to survive and hopefully invest in a future. 

“And that stopped you from having me?” he asks, and he starts tapping the table with his index finger, his knee bouncing at a steady pace. “Oh wait, I was no child.”

“No,” she responds, for who is she to lie to him now? “You were my Alexander.” His face twists into an ugly sneer, and gone is the image of her grown, in-control boy. “Maybe I was wrong.” Maybe that’s why she called for him, she thinks. Maybe, she just needs to get it off her chest, words buried so deep inside it tears her throat apart to let them out. “You were an investment to a future I dreamed of. One that now seems ugly and distasteful.”

“Is this your version of sorry?” he almost growls, sounding so much like his father- the only similarity she has been able to find between the two, “‘Cause I don’t need it. The way you raised me helped me become who I am today. I am,” he swallows, “ever so grateful to you, Mother.” 

“Oh?” There’s a certain sincerity to his words that has her feeling uneasy. This is not what she was expecting. She had hoped for some form of reprimandation. 

“Yes,” he chokes out, and breaks eye contact, gesturing for the waitress again. “Put these-” he gestures to the leftovers, “in a box. I also want an order of these biscuits to go. And the bill.” She lets him pay. She can pretend later that he was being a sweet son, treating his revered mother out for brunch. A scenario that could’ve been if not for her own bloody actions. “I hope to see you soon,” he begins, and is this his version of ‘I miss you?’ 

“Likewise,” she responds before he can continue, pushing her seat back. “Let me know when you’re free. You must know how to contact me?” He nods, and somehow, that hurts. How could he know and not try for all those years? “Come visit me then. I have a room for you.” He gawks at her, eyes gruff and hurt, before nodding once more and excusing himself, a bag swinging by his side as he exits the restaurant. Outside, she observes as he stops, takes in a deep breath, turns and stares at her once more, the clean glass separating them gleaming sunlight. ‘See you soon,’ his lips form and he’s gone, leaving her to stare at no one but her distraught reflection. 

**Author's Note:**

> I imagine that Talia will regret more and more of her decisions as she ages. She probably sincerely thought she was raising him to be the best. He doesn't turn out to be what she expected and as she ages, she gets lonely. I've seen strict parents put their kids through hell and back and then when they're older and crave attention and their kids don't give it to them, they either blame themselves or blame the now-grown kids for being insolent. Talia is not stupid. She'll know it's her fault.
> 
> Damian's comment about being grateful to his mother was indeed genuine. I read a post on tumblr that was quite interesting. It implied that he was raised to be an heir. He was conditioned to be perfect. I know someone who was raised in a harsh situation that is truly grateful for what she was put through. It is not abuse in her eyes. It is discipline that was needed to be the person she is now. Of course, I don't see it that way at all.
> 
> As Robin, Damian probably saw many other abuse victims and compared his situation to theirs. In the end, he thinks the difference between him and them is that he wanted it. 
> 
> Thank you for reading :)


End file.
